


31st Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [31]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, My Time At Portia (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Clothing Kink, Enemas, F/M, Farting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Molestation, Pain, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22433857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Piers/Fem!Reader | ch.2 McCree/Reaper | ch.3 Kabu/Raihan | ch.4 Baptiste/Lúcio | ch.5 McCree/Reaper | ch.6 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.7 Lúcio/Baptiste | ch.8 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.9 McCree/Hanzo | ch.10 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.11 Bruce/Jason | ch.12 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.13 Builder/Gust
Relationships: Builder/Gust (My Time At Portia), Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Kabu/Kibana | Raihan, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: Fic Batches [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 12
Kudos: 209





	1. Piers/fem!Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers/fem!Reader – rough sex; consensual rape; choking/asphyxiation – You lost the battle so you gotta pay now.

You look so petulant and angry in your defeat when you call your Cramorant back and sink down on your knees. Still you press its Pokéball against your lips, and murmur encouragement for the silly thing. It’s just as much your failure as it is your Pokémon’s, after all.

“You can do it next time. I’m sure of it.”

Your mouth is trembling in frustration – it makes Piers’ victory all the sweeter. He can tell that you haven’t heard him approach because you flinch back when his shadow suddenly falls across you.

Your pupils become little pinpricks of fear, then dilate again when the first confusion settles as you stare up at the Gym Leader, remembering why he is standing there now, swaying minimally like a zombie.

Piers is slightly hunched over, yet still towering above you. A menacing grin slowly stretches his mouth. He looks a lot less tired when he smiles – and a lot more creepy. It doesn’t keep your pussy from throbbing. You stare up at him quietly, your thoughts running across your face clear as day – so when you try to flee, he already knows about it long before you even move the first muscle. His arm shoots out to grab your hair and keep you right where you are.

“Hey, babe. We had a deal, right?” he murmurs into your grimacing face. You reach up and curl your hands around his wrist, but... he is surprisingly strong despite his stick thin appearance.

Piers doesn’t do _deals_ with any of the little ones that go through his gym, but you are not a kid on a journey to become Champion. You are a slut that likes to bet with him about the outcome of your battles. You clench your thighs together, belly tight and prickly.

“I want to take my Pokémon to the center first,” you murmur defiantly. Piers’ smile widens. The fist he has in your hair tightens and as you wince and whine, he pulls you closer to push your face against the growing bulge in his elastic gym suit.

He moves his hips, fucking against your face while you make choked little sounds and half-heartedly try to turn yourself away despite you becoming stupidly excited at the heat and smell of his dick through the fabric. You could use your hands to push him off of you, but you don’t.

“Roll your Pokéballs to the side. One of Team Yell will take care of them.”

You pause at that. You had forgotten that you were not alone.

You start to glance around as much as possible while he distractingly keeps smearing his bulge against your face. There are humanoid shadows slinking around the edges of the buildings and battlefield.

You know that none of them would help you.

.o.

Piers’ bet had excited you, but you hadn’t thought he’d actually go through with it. He always seemed so docile and melancholic… you hadn’t thought he’d had it in him to drag you around by your hair and make you feel like a victim, but… yeah. It’s happening.

You are struggling pathetically as you get pulled towards the mesh fence the second you obediently rolled your Pokéballs towards the edge of the field. You’re not worried about them; Piers isn’t _mean_ , per se. He just gets horny every now and then like anybody else.

You can respect that… but you still can’t quite tamp down on the instinctual fear you feel getting dragged across the gravelly ground and thrown against the mesh fence.

Your body aches where it hit the metal, but you have no time to reorient yourself before Piers is on you again and forces his cock past your lips.

You almost bite down but can keep from doing so at the last second. Still, he must have felt the barest graze of teeth because he wrenches your head back with the grip he still has on your hair, and makes you look up at him.

“I’m going to kick your teeth in if I feel them again,” he murmurs menacingly. He wouldn’t, of course, but you still feel a cold shock of fear shoot through your body, ending in a hot pulse between your legs. You clench your thighs together, and softly groan around his cock at the feeling of your pussy being squeezed.

Piers lets go off your hair, but by then you are boxed in between the mesh wire and his body, and there is nowhere else to go but to take it when he starts to fuck your mouth like he hates you.

His sharp hip bones hurt your face until you feel bruised and beaten up. Still, you try your utmost not to let him feel your teeth again as you struggle not to gag from getting his cock shoved down your throat.

It burns whenever the swollen crown pushes in too far, forcing your throat to bulge with it. His cock is… surprisingly fat for someone of his stature.

Piers’ fingers are hooked into the mesh fence for better leverage as he grunt fucks your throat. He sounds… feral. Kind of like his Obstagoon, really. Your head pounds from getting it rutted against the metal wire, and still your cunt pulses and your clit feels stupidly swollen and tender. You feel like you could come like a rocket if only you could somehow squeeze your fingers into your pants and drag your fingers against the swollen pearl.

“That’s what losers get,” Piers gloats. He reaches down and pinches your nose closed until you gag on his cock and get red in the face. Your blood rushes in your ears, lungs burning. You almost feel like you are going to piss yourself by the time he pulls away and lets you breathe again – yet still you keep your hands to yourself like a good girl.

The world spins as you are wrenched up to your feet. You babble something unintelligible, drooling down the front of your shirt as Piers once again forces you against the mesh wire and roughly pulls your pants down.

There is no preparation, no careful probing and checking whether you are ready – there is just his cock forcing his way between your trembling thighs, squeezing against your wet opening until the tip pops inside.

There are still shadows slinking around your peripheral as he fucks you like a man possessed, but you can’t make yourself pay attention to them watching you getting defiled. All you can do is claw at the wire fence and try to keep up on your feet while Piers fucks you like a bull and his bony hips snap against your plump ass.

It’s stupid how fast he pushes you up to that edge, but you couldn’t do anything against it even if you wanted to. You must be making some sort of noise but you can’t hear anything over the rush in your ears that hasn’t stopped. Your lungs are still burning, partly because you keep coughing and hacking because right now you are too stupid to properly breathe.

Maybe you piss yourself as you come, you don’t know; all you know is that you feel like you’ve gotten beaten up just as badly as your Pokémon, and all your insides drop out of your cunt, but it’s good. It’s really good.

The hot rush of orgasm crashes like waves through your body and you can’t make yourself care, even as you are vaguely aware of Piers showering you in insults that he doesn’t really mean.


	2. McCree/Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McReyes – clothing kink – Gabriel is super bad at pretending he hates McCree’s getup.

Gabriel is chewing on his tongue watching from the stands above as the recruits move around the training facility. McCree stands out like a sore thumb just as usual. Multiple times he almost gets hit by the fake bullets from the training robots just because his goddamn stupid had flies off his scalp and he has to go and retrieve it.

There’s a big smile on his face, too; like he thinks this is all hilarious. Or maybe he thinks he looks _so dashing_. McCree’s attire is a constant source of aggravation to Gabriel, but today even more so than usual – maybe because the rest of McCree’s attire is for once standard. There are no chaps, no boots with spurs on them, no cape… he almost followed Gabriel’s constant admonishments to a T.

Except for that goddamn stupid cowboy hat.

“McCree!” Gabriel barks towards the end of the exercise. Jesse comes to a stuttering halt and looks around the room until finally his gaze lands on Gabriel. His face splits open in a huge smile, not unlike a puppydog.

He tips his goddamn _fucking_ stupid cowboy hat at him. The nerve.

“Hey there, bo-”

“My office! Now!” Gabriel barks, voice gone a bit scratchy and just on the verge of breaking. He turns and stalks away, body boiling hot from… anger. Yes. Anger.

.o.

The second McCree enters his office, Gabriel is on him. He fists his hand in the front of the young man’s sweatshirt and slams him hard enough against the wall right next to the door that he can hear the grunted ‘oof’ of all the air leaving him for a moment.

McCree’s face pulls into a grimace for a moment, but he has enough wherewithal to reach up and make sure his hat doesn’t topple off his head.

“The Hell, boss?” he murmurs. Gabriel is right up in his grill, noses almost brushing. He can smell the thick, salty stench of McCree’s sweat and he is almost sure that the guy hasn’t showered in a day or two.

Disgusting. The whole package. No class, no fashion sense, just… _disgusting_.

“I will rip your goddamn head off if you don’t stop putting on that abomination,” he growls at him, body pressing against McCree’s to feel how thick and corded with muscle he is.

McCree’s bushy brows pull together. He looks completely unconcerned with Gabriel’s threat and more interested in the fact that he can feel his boss’ erection pressing against him.

“Uh…”

“Shut up!” Gabriel barks at him. McCree’s mouth closes with a snap and he stands just a bit taller. Gabriel starts to sink down onto his knees while McCree ogles him with big brown eyes.

“What are ya-”

“I said _shut the Hell up_!” Gabriel can feel his pulse skyrocket, a vein starting to pulse at his temple. He hooks his fingers into McCree’s pants and pulls them down roughly despite the drawstring keeping them up over his meaty ass and thighs.

He makes a sound of utter disgust when he realizes that McCree had been freeballing it the whole time. _Against regulations_.

“You are a _disgrace_ ,” he growls at him as he takes McCree’s fat cock into his hand and squeezes it gently. The stench of unwashed cock is almost enough to make his eyes water. McCree is staring at him with a stupid look of surprise on his face, his cowboy hat nearly toppling down his messy hair.

Gabriel stares up at him with a deep frown on his face, daring him to look away as he opens his mouth and pops the plump tip between his lips.

Goddamn fashion disaster. Absolutely disgusting.

He drags his tongue against McCree’s glans and focuses on the slit he finds there. It tastes as salty as McCree smells. In his hand and between his lips, McCree’s cock begins to swell rapidly.

It was to be expected. Someone with McCree’s fashion sense would be easy as they come. McCree’s eyes are big, his mouth a soft, slack ‘o’ of surprise.

He’d never have thought that him getting called into his boss’ office would end with him getting his dick sucked by said boss, and it’s painfully obvious on his face.

Gabriel slowly pulls back with a lewd slurp, then begins to tongue at the loose fold of foreskin bunched just beneath the flare of the tip.

“Take that fucking hat off,” he mumbles.

Jesse blinks at him slowly, then lifts his hand and touches the rim of his cowboy hat. For a second it looks like he is going to follow the order before he lifts his brows and asks slyly: “Why should I? Ye’re already suckin’ my dick, aren’t ya?”

He has the gall to tip his hat at Gabriel, and Gabriel in retaliation palms his hairy fat breeder balls and gives them a warm squeeze in his palm.

“Disgusting,” he rasps, then tongues at the glans wet enough to have a drip of saliva start descending towards the floor.

McCree laughs like this is all a joke, and carefully reaches out for Gabriel. When there’s no protest forthcoming, he grasps the beanie and pulls it off of Gabriel’s head, then palms his scalp, letting the stubble of his shorn hair rasp against his palm.

He urges him to move closer again, and Gabriel does open his mouth and allows him to pop back inside the warmth of it.

“Shit you’re a crazy bitch, boss,” he rasps, his hips starting up a slow rocking motion. He’s testing the waters and Gabriel just lets him get through with it.

Jesse slowly rubs his palm against Gabriel’s stubble, watching him as he quietly takes more and more of the fat cock until he has to tilt his head back to let him slip into his throat.

“Holy shit,” Jesse whispers when he feels the tip pop into Gabriel’s throat the first time. His voice has gone high and scratchy, hips stuttering. He looks like he’s never had someone deepthroat him, and Gabriel wouldn’t be surprised if that were actually the case.

It is easy to forget just how young Jesse really is. His lumberjack-cowboy looks tend to distract from… everything else, really.

Gabriel wants to close his eyes, especially when they start to tear up, but he also can’t stop looking at the hat sitting all wonky on Jesse’s head. He wants to snatch it off of him and throw it in the goddamn garbage where it belongs, but the cock down his throat is a lot more interesting than getting up and teaching the kid some fashion sense.

Eventually, Jesse shifts his stance slightly, shuffling his feet farther apart and clasping Gabriel’s head between his palms. He holds him still, and Gabriel already knows what’ll happen, so he just tries to open his throat up and breathe through his nose as much as possible.

McCree fucks like he’s never skull fucked someone, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Soon enough he is drilling Gabriel’s throat like there’s no tomorrow, and the sight of his stupid hat is eclipsed by the involuntary tears forming at the corners of Gabriel’s eyes.

He is huffing like a bull. His stench permeates Gabriel’s whole being. What a disgusting disaster of a man…

Fuck… Fuck, he wants him so badly. He’ll have to order him in more often. Make him come to him when he is in his whole fucking get-up so he can see how ridiculous it is when he bends over to order him to mount him.

He wants to see how the chaps frame McCree’s meaty ass and make it look even fatter than it is.

Damn...


	3. Kabu/Anonymous; (Kabu/Raihan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kabu/anon people; (Kabu/Raihan) – train sex; non-con/dub-con; molestation – Kabu is so cute and small and so easy to fuck up :(

_He’ll be takin the train at 4:45pm to Hammerlocke. ya kno what to do. don’t be too rough on the old man_

Raihan lazes on his couch, watching the answers streaming in on the big chat he’s got going with some of his fans.

There’s literally nothing else to do but to lean back and enjoy the ride until his poor old man comes running to him for comfort… Raihan grins lazily and twists to lie on his back, Rotom hovering above him and trying the livestream every few moments, waiting for someone to go online.

.o.

The train is surprisingly crowded this time of day. Kabu is rather glad that he opted to keep standing close to the doors. The ride from Motostoke to Hammerlocke isn’t a particularly long one, but he wasn’t in the mood to squeeze himself through people to get out at his destination – or even have anybody recognize him right now.

He is wearing his gym shorts and a hoodie with the hood up and over his hair so nobody would be able to identify him due to his iconic hairdo. He just stands there and waits, feet slightly shuffled apart to accommodate the motions of the train.

This form of transportation is a lot slower than the Corvitaxis but he finds that he prefers this still. He can just take a few moments of calm and peace and enjoy the anonymity, even though the people keep crowding closer and closer around him until he is practically wedged between a few warm bodies towering above him.

They were all just so tall. It reminds him of Raihan, really; how his young lover enjoys to lord his superior height over him and make him flush in frustration (and excitement).

He stoically ignores the cramped spaces, keeping his hand on the railing and closing his eyes to just think about how in just an hour he will be in Raihan’s ridiculously expensive apartment, getting wined and dined before Raihan undoubtedly will seduce him.

Yet suddenly he is wrenched out of his idle thoughts by a hand on the back of his thigh, grabbing hard enough to make it impossible that it was an accident. He goes up on the balls of his feet instinctively, gasping sharply.

His eyes open wide and he wants to turn around to see who had the _audacity,_ when the world suddenly goes dark. Someone has grabbed the front of his hood and pulled it down over his eyes.

He opens his mouth in protest, and a hand is already there as well, clamping down and silencing him while the hand on the back of his thigh slides higher, fingers digging rudely into his asscrack and against his tender hole.

There are too many hands for it to just be one person assailing him. His heart is beating frantically, and he starts squirming and trying to defend himself, but the bodies all around him are close, hands big and rough and restricting.

.o.

Kabu is so cute when he’s getting molested. Raihan has had his hand down his shorts the moment the livestream had started up, and he is fisting his cock watching a close-up of one of his fans getting a nice hand full of Kabu’s tight little ass.

The man’s fingers are digging into the crack, rubbing at Kabu’s taint with intent – and Raihan knows for a _fact_ how much the old man likes that particular treatment. He’s spent many a night with his head between Kabu’s muscled thighs, tickling his taint with his fingertips and tongue to get him nice and horny for the main attraction.

There are multiple feeds happening at once, and his phone is picking out the best ones for him to watch.

Someone has shoved their hands beneath Kabu’s sweatshirt, pushing it up and showing off Kabu’s tight little tits for Raihan’s viewing pleasure. There’s a second or two of those same hands gently pinching those little nipples before Rotom changes to a feed showing off how Kabu’s shorts are being pulled down.

He’s wearing a jockstrap the little whore; the pouch filled to bursting with his delicious cock, all undecided and half-hard as the fingers that had been rubbing him through the fabric come back for the real deal.

Raihan can see the wetness glistening on them. He wonders if Kabu will even realize what is happening; whether he will put two and two together and understand that this is not a freak happening but has been obviously _planned_.

Someone is helpfully spreading those tight little cheeks, showing off the pink furl of Kabu’s hole. Raihan groans into the palm of his hand, hips jerking up into the fist he’s curled around his dick.

Kabu is really and truly getting molested on a train.

Just as that first wet finger begins to slide into the little snatch, Rotom changes the video feed again. Raihan’s cry of protest is cut short when he sees that Kabu’s mouth is no longer covered by a hand, but open and wet and panting. What can be seen of his cheeks has flushed a fetching red.

Oh… the little whore is _enjoying_ himself. He starts to get into being groped in public… right in front of the doors where he’s now showing himself off, with how his sweatshirt is rucked up beneath his armpits and his cock is straining and wetting against the fabric of his jockstrap.

“Show me his cunt,” Raihan whines. He bites the edge of his hand when Rotom obediently switches over to the channel showing off two fingers fucking into Kabu’s tight snatch. The rim is flushed the same delicate red as his cheeks, wet and stretched around the thick digits of whoever is fingering him with enough zeal that Kabu has to lean forward for it and get his ass out.

Raihan’s teeth dig deeper into his hand when he gets a full body shot of the whole action. Kabu is still being blindfolded by his own hoodie (which looks… stupidly cute on him), and is clawing at a railing with both hands as he’s stuck between four bodies that are constantly touching him.

His little tits are blotchy red from mean pinches, and his cock bounces in his jockstrap with every clumsy movement.

When the guy that had been fingering him the whole time gets behind him to very unmistakably fuck him, a few tears roll after all.

Raihan can’t even dredge up the decency to try and feel bad at how the sight of tears starting to slip from beneath the sloppy blindfold are getting him so hot and bothered that he has to force himself to take his hand off of his cock for a second.

This is what he’s been looking for. Kabu whimpering and sniffling; the old man hanging off of a stranger’s cock, getting held in place by a little crowd of guys that Raihan has sicked on him like a pack of dogs.

He wants him to stumble home to him, ashamed and shy, jockstrap still wet from how they forced him to cum on their big nasty dicks, tits tender from getting slapped and pinched right there in the train.

It’s not his fault Kabu is so cute when he’s broken down...


	4. Baptiste/Lúcio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Baptiste – pain kink; post mission sex; bottom!Baptiste – It’s right after a mission and Lúcio is very horny.

As they all file into the jet, Lúcio grasps Baptiste by his scarf and pulls him seamlessly towards the small toilet stall in the back without any of the others noticing, exhausted as they are.

Baptiste grunts softly in question but follows along willingly enough. They all can feel their bodies in the not-fun way, and already have an inkling of how bad it’ll be the next day when the soreness had time to really set in, but Lúcio doesn’t really care about either right now.

What he cares about is to get Baptiste alone so he can climb all over him.

As soon as the door swishes shut, he pushes Baptiste up against it, both hands now in his scarf, pulling him down so he can press an almost aggressive kiss over his mouth.

“Lúcio?” Baptiste mumbles into it, big hands fumbling clumsily to grasp his lover’s hips. It’s difficult to keep up with the young medic’s fervor, and eventually he just opens up for his greedy little tongue and lets him have at it.

“You looked so damn hot out there,” Lúcio eventually whines, lips wet with spit and dark eyes sparking with eagerness. There is something feverish about his expression as he unclenches one of his hands from the scarf and moves over to grasp Baptiste’s thick bicep.

Baptiste hisses when Lùcio presses his thumb right into one of his cuts. He wants to tell him, but staring down into his fiery eyes, and how they flick over to his hand, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Oh my… God. The Hell?” Baptiste asks with a tired chuckle, head thumping back and trying to let the pain just wash over and through him. He grits his teeth, feet shuffling restlessly. Before meeting Lúcio, he’d just thought pain is pain, but now he can appreciate the nuances in it.

It’s just different when Lúcio is the one doing it.

He delights in digging into Baptiste’s bruises until he is sobbing, then gently kissing over them to soothe the ache.

“Get naked, c’mon,” Lúcio urges eagerly, hips rolling into Baptiste. He’s bossy now like he usually isn’t, and that more than anything lets Baptiste know how hot and bothered he’s become during their fight.

The thought is… stupidly exciting.

“Have you been watching me?” he asks while he fumbles with clips and belts and buttons and zippers. His fingers feel swollen and useless after their long mission, but Lúcio is unrelenting, his eyes bright and needy as he keeps stealing kisses or nipping at Baptiste’s jaw.

“Yeah. Been so fuckin’ hot, blasting those Talon agents…”

Lúcio takes a step back to get at his own clothes, a feral grin on his face that looks honestly kind of frightening. Baptiste has never seen him like this, but… he likes it. Very much so.

He’s ordered to turn around, and he does so without questioning it. He feels like giggling the whole time and has to muffle the sounds against his forearm, pants down to his thick thighs, ass bare and for Lúcio to take.

“You like this?” Lúcio whispers excitedly. He’s too small to properly mount Baptiste like this, but for now he is getting with wet fingers at his hole, trying to tease him into relaxation as fast as possible.

“Yeah,” Baptiste croons back. They have to be as quiet as possible; the room is barely soundproof, and just outside they can hear the dull conversations of their teammates. He giggles again, body filled with pain and happiness in equal measures.

His eyes fall closed when Lúcio gently works two fingers into him. There’s too much body armor in the way for him to grab at Baptiste like he usually does, so he makes up for it with little heated whispers.

“You’ll have to bend down when I want to fuck you… so I can give it to you good, alright?”

“Y-Yeah, alright…”

“And you’ll have to try and stay nice and still so the others won’t notice… don’t want you banging against the door or anything.”

His fingers scissor in deep, knuckles rudely pushing against Baptiste’s prostate until he just has to get up on the balls of his feet because not moving seems absolutely impossible.

Baptiste’s knees feel weak and warm, ready to just give out at any moment. He has to bite at his forearm to keep quiet when Lúcio begins to round his prostate with inquisitive fingers.

“Wish I had my sound vibe with me,” Lúcio rasps at him. Baptiste clenches his eyes shut, belly doing a weird little twist and swoop. Lúcio likes experimenting with sex toys and building his own things.

Baptiste has always been his little labrat in that regard.

He remembers the sound vibe well. He’d broken out in spontaneous tears of overstimulation the last time Lúcio had tried it, the pulses against his prostate so strong and intense that Baptiste had thought he could never come again.

Lúcio slowly drags his fingers out of him in a delicious, long slide, fingertips giving his rim one last playful tug before Baptiste is gently guided to lower his hips some for his small lover.

It would almost be soft if Lúcio weren’t digging his fingers into old bruises along Baptiste’s hips where he’d placed them a couple days before. The ache radiates through him, adding to the slow pulses of hurt from his joints and muscles and scrapes.

He doesn’t think any of their team mates would ever believe him if he told them that their docile resident DJ loved getting nasty and mean behind closed doors.

They often mistake Lúcio’s manners and easy-going nature for innocence and softness.

Baptiste is kind of addicted to this other side of Lúcio. This ‘real’ side. Where he curses and gets frustrated when some of his inventions don’t work the way he wants them to; where he sits in front of the TV and watches reports of the resistances in Brazil.

The one that slaps his ass and holds his head into the pillows while he fucks him like a man possessed, only letting him up and gasp for air at the very last second.

Lúcio has one foot braced on the toilet seat, giving him some leverage as he fucks into Baptiste without hesitation. His fingers keep digging into Baptiste’s bruises with an accuracy that becomes more and more infuriating the longer the ache is prolonged by Lúcio’s mean fingertips.

There’s a whine swelling in Baptiste’s throat that really wants to become a scream of pain and frustration, but Lúcio reminds him roughly to keep quiet, so he has to swallow it down and just take it.

Sadistic little asshole.

Baptiste loves him so fucking much.

Lúcio rides him like a man possessed, balls slapping loud and meaty against Baptiste until he is absolutely sure there is no way that the others are not able to hear them fuck like beasts in the tiny bathroom.

“You looked so good out there,” Lúcio whispers at him heatedly, and then, softer and more gentle: “I’m so glad we both came back alive.”

Baptiste lets his head sink between his bracing arms, accepting the pain and letting it just take him on a whole different level, body lax and delirious as he gets pushed relentlessly to his peak.

“Me too…” he whispers back.


	5. McCree/Reaper (+McCree/BW recruits)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McReyes (+ McCree/BW recruits) – enema as punishment; humiliation – Gabriel has a foolproof way of making misbehaving recruits listen like well trained puppies.

“Boss?!” Jesse’s usually deep voice can climb a surprising amount when he is distressed, Gabriel finds. He hasn’t much had the opportunity to hear him like this. Usually, Jesse is unflappable and _cool_ , but being bend over with his hairy ass on display seems to scratch something his youthful arrogance can’t mask.

Gabriel doesn’t answer him. He knows the silent treatment unsettles him more than anything else. He snaps his fingers at one of the other recruits standing there and ogling like a cow, then points towards the clear bag to the side that he had taken with him before almost literally kicking the sliding door open.

He’s come prepared. He’s learned that with McCree you needed structure and forethinking. There was no use to ‘wing it’ when the subject of the disciplinary action was as used in winding itself out of every goddamn situation as McCree was.

Everything has gone quick and smooth; a perfect example of what he is always preaching to his recruits: get in, don’t make a fuss, get your shit done, and get out. In this scenario it entailed to cuff McCree’s hands behind his back and keep him unbalanced; one hand on the back of his neck, holding him at a ninety degree angle.

“Boss what the fuck?! I’m being serious!”

Interesting. So even McCree isn’t immune to being humiliated in front of the rest of the class.

“Good. Then take a deep breath in, it’ll help. Seriously,” Gabriel tells him laconically, hand blindly outstretched for the clear bag filled with soapy warm water.

“What-?” Jesse’s voice cracks phenomenally. He tries to squirm away but it only takes a step to the side to make him stumble around until he is stuck between the wall and Gabriel.

It’s like fitting a skittish horse with a new pair of shoes, but Gabriel is calm enough to go through with it. The other recruits are standing at attention in various states of undress, glancing nervously at each other every now and then. They have no idea what to think or do about this, and don’t want to be the first to speak up against their commander.

Gabriel ignores them. He doesn’t hesitate, just takes the nozzle of the bag and rudely shoves it into McCree’s hairy hole. The kid freezes for a second, something like a soft little groan floating up from his bend head, then tries to buck him off.

Needless to say that it doesn’t work. It isn’t Gabriel’s first rodeo. It’s not something he necessarily enjoys, but every once in a while a recruit like Jesse comes along – someone too cocky for their own damn good who needs to be taught a quick and ruthless lesson.

He opens the nozzle with a flick of his thumb, then takes hold of the bag proper. He doesn’t need to squeeze to get it flowing, but he does so just to make Jesse settle down faster.

McCree might think he’s hot shit, having been the leader of a lucrative little gang, but with his intestines filling with soapy water in front of his fellow recruits reduces him to just another little delinquent. Just like others before him, his protests quiet down _real_ quick the second he becomes aware of what happens.

That Gabriel isn’t joking but really and truly filling his belly with warm soapy water.

Gabriel can tell the exact moment when the first tiny cramp hits: Jesse gorans softly deep in his throat.

“Hmmm… calmed down real quick, haven’t you?”

He slightly loosens the grip he has on the back of Jesse’s neck some, but doesn’t pull away completely. He’s no idiot, after all. He stops squeezing the bag and just holds it to let gravity do its thing.

Not even a minute later, the next sound: a whine like a creaking door, McCree’s fingers flexing mightily where his hands are bound behind his back.

Gabriel leans down until his lips are almost touching McCree’s ear.

“I think you will think about it before you try shit next time, hm?”

He can’t see McCree’s face with how his mane of hair is blocking the view, but he nods softly. No big man now that he’s on the verge of shitting himself in front of a room full of men.

“I understand,” comes his soft, pitiful reply.

“Do you, really?” Gabriel answers just as softly, tone mocking. He slightly moves the bag to get the water flowing just a bit faster. Jesse immediately crumbles, his whiny repentant little boy routine broken by his roar of anger. He tries to buck again and get Gabriel to let go, but he has no chance whatsoever.

The cramps, first light and almost unnoticeable, begin to visibly gnaw on him. His hips keep trying to duck out, thighs shaking like those of an overworked horse, before there is the loud gurgle of his intestines, clearly audible for the whole room.

Jesse whines drawn out and pathetic. He tries to cower down, but Gabriel’s knee is up and against his belly in a moment, threatening to put pressure on the already painfully sensitive intestines.

Jesse’s whine ends in a boyish sob.

“C-Come on!” he tries in one last effort. “D-Don’t I get a-another chance?”

“Got enough as far as I’m concerned,” Gabriel answers calmly. “This is what bastards like you get.”

Jesse falls silent after that. His breathing is loud and labored; almost drowning out the gurgle of his intestines as the soapy water moves about and fills every nook and cranny.

“Almost empty,” Gabriel tells him. When Jesse doesn’t answer, he very slowly lets go of the back of his neck and brushes his hair away from his face. It is very pale and clammy with sweat. “What do you think will happen if i pull it out?”

Jesse’s eyes widen with fear, hectic spots of color appearing on his cheekbones.

“D-Don’t!”

“Why? You want more?”

Jesse’s face twists in a grimace of agony. Gabriel smiles serenely, his elbow coming to rest between McCree’s shoulder blades as he turns around to have a look at the surrounding Blackwatch recruits.

“I hope you think about this exact scenario next time you think you’re so clever and funny,” he says silkily, then turns back towards Jesse. “Clench up.”

He doesn’t give him much time to process the command before he already pulls the nozzle out of his clenching hole. There’s a small dribble of murky water before McCree does clench down and starts to cower close to the ground, whimpering, belly gurgling with a vengeance.

“L-Let me go to the restroom,” he slurs, voice high and trembling.

Gabriel’s mouth twitches.

“Nobody’s keeping you here, McCree. You can go whenever you please.”

McCree whimpers again, obviously not daring to move a single muscle for fear of losing his control over his sphincter. Gabriel pets his head like one would pet a dog.

“I trust you will behave yourself in the future?”

McCree groans in his chest.

“Y...Yes, Sir…”

“Good. You lot can do with him what you want. I don’t care as long as you’re not being too wild.”

He smirks when McCree’s wildly gurgling belly seems to underline his statement, and turns to make his way outside, empty enema bag in hand. It feels good if a plan goes well.


	6. R76 + Jack/anon soldiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R76 + Jack/anon soldiers – public usage; gaping; sharpie – It’s Jack’s birthday and Gabriel has a party for him.

Gabriel slowly drags the dildo out of Jack, watching his wet hole cling to the fake dick until the very last second. It’s a nice view for sure: his rim is swollen and brick red, and gaping like the useless little cunt it is.

Gabriel puts the dildo onto the bench next to Jack and instead shoves two fingers into him, rubbing up against the feverishly hot insides. He tests out the give of everything, and when he is suitably satisfied with the outcome, he takes a squirt bottle of lube and presses a good dollop into him just for the fun of it.

Jack groans softly at the feeling, his hips arching up to make sure the mess doesn’t immediately run back out of him. He’s a good sport like that.

“There you go, Jackie. Everything good and ready,” Gabriel purrs at him. Jack doesn’t answer much. His bright blue eyes are hidden behind a blindfold, but he still clearly is out of it already. His arms bound at the small of his back, he braces his chest against one of the benches the recruits plant their sweaty asses on, just waiting for someone to come up and use him.

Gabriel smirks. He Takes a string and kicks Jack’s legs farther apart. It doesn’t take long to bind the new black sharpie to his upper thigh. He then takes a little crude sign and carefully balances it between Jack’s shoulder blades.

“You ready?” he murmurs. “I’ll be watching over the cameras.”

Jack somehow finds enough brain cells to rub together to nod. Gabriel gives his ass a little parting slap, then stands and stretches to his heart’s content before leaving Jack to his destiny as a dirty public use slut.

.o.

Gabriel should have thought of bringing some snacks. Watching the recruits step into the locker rooms after their evening drill and see them jerk their way through semi-heart attacks from being presented with the Strike Commander’s gaping hole is something he would have loved to record for later.

Alas.

They creep closer like some scared animals. Like they’ve never seen a dirty whore in their lives. Maybe they are waiting for Gabriel to jump out at them and get their asses for some infraction or other (which is not unlikely).

Finally, one of them grabs the little sign and pulls it closer to read.

‘Feel free to use. Don’t damage. Watching you. -Reyes’

It still takes a while for them to be crowded around Jack and arguing with each other. Gabriel can feel the vein on his forehead start to swell the longer those idiots are just standing around doing fuck all when he’s prepared a goddamn _feast_ for them, until Agent Phines finally elbows one of them out of the way, training shorts already pulled down enough to get at least his cock out.

Things start moving after that.

Gabriel has no audio feed but he can zoom to his heart’s content. There’s an enticing flush quickly crawling down Jack’s back as he’s fucked by the first young stud. It’s definitely an improvement to the loveless dicking he received earlier by Gabriel via the fake cock. It’s been a means to an end, really; nothing to get the whore off, and it shows.

The men are as unimaginative as they come, and still Jack seems to moan for them like he’s getting the best cock of his life.

Gabriel has his arms crossed in front of his chest, waiting with ill-concealed impatience for them to snap out of the ‘fuck and run’ haze that seems to have descended over them. They give it to Jack quick and messy like squirrels and shoot their little loads before quickly making room for another. Like they’re afraid Jack’ll be taken away from them before all of them could pump their loads into his squelching used up cunt.

He’s just about to get up and storm in there when their brains finally kick back in and they find the sharpie prominently bound around one of Jack’s thickly muscled thighs.

After that, things finally relax and start _rolling_.

Gabriel will have to plant a mic on Jack the next time. He can see his blissed-out o-face, but the fact that he can neither hear his gurgling moans, nor the recruits discussing the nasty whore before them is making him antsy.

His cock is trying to strangle itself against his pants. He absentmindedly presses a hand against it, cupping and squeezing but not doing much else. His attention is on all the screens in front of him showing him in excruciating, delicious detail how Jack is being made the warm, gooey center of a gangbang full of young, uneducated studs.

The boys are gearing up for a second round – this one calmer than the first. They’re taking their time, leisurely fucking Jack’s dripping hole and displacing all the loads they’ve pumped in there earlier. They fuck like they’ve never had a warm squelching hole on their dicks, and Gabriel wouldn’t be surprised to know that it actually is the first time for some of them.

The first one to make use of the sharpie is Phines once more. Gabriel wouldn’t have thought that he’s a kinky motherfucker but he’s not there to judge. He gets the other guys moving at least.

He can’t imagine the stench Jack is breathing in with all of them fresh from the tracks, but from the way his mouth hangs open and tongue is lolling out, he seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

Phines is the one to write ‘waz here’ on Jack’s right cheek, but the others are the ones that get more creative once they shake off the first indecision.

One draws a crude cock onto Jack’s back; another puts down a phone number. Another begins to put tally marks on Jack’s thigh, and Gabriel _really_ is into that kind of shit.

Finally they realize that there is more than one hole, and a couple of jocks begin to line up at the front, grabbing the Strike Commander’s blond hair and lifting him up until his plump, wet mouth is ready to be grunt fucked by them.

Jack is getting filled on both ends, and Gabriel doesn’t think that he could have made him any happier for his birthday. His skin is slowly but surely filled with stupid little drawings and insults. His throat bulges with the cocks he takes down to the root.

They fuck him like they’ve only ever seen it in porn, and Jack is a good enough sport about it to just let them do their thing and not protest once.

He just takes it.

One shoots his load right into his face and makes a mess of his hair and blindfold, and from the way his mouth moves, Gabriel is pretty sure that Jack thanked him for it like a good boy.

When the last stud finally draws away from his hole, Gabriel drags a big hand across his mouth and chin, shocked by the absolute ruin it has become.

He’s never seen anything as sloppy wet and gaping as Jack Morrison’s ass after some ten or twenty rounds of getting pounded by young, virile soldiers.

One draws a big heart around the tally marks. Another wipes his dick dry in Jack’s hair.

There’s always two kinds of people.


	7. Lúcio/Baptiste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Baptiste – suspension bondage – Overwatch wants Baptiste. Lúcio offers himself as an incentive. He’s not as innocent as one might think.
> 
> Sequel: B32F6

Baptiste pauses when he gets into his room, pulse spiking. He stares at the little morsel strung up in the middle of it. For a moment he thinks it must have been Talon. One more ditch effort to bring him into their folds for good… or maybe a boon for a job well done.

Then he sees the Overwatch symbol emblazoned boldly on the front of the young man’s tanga – the only piece of clothing left on his person – and finally recognizes him as _Lúcio_.

“Oh…” He can’t bring himself to make a smart remark. He slowly comes closer, heart thumping in his chest. He thought he’d be fairly safe in this apartment for some reason, but seeing the young DJ strung up in the middle of the little living room is kind of… well. Whatever.

Lúcio is blindfolded, but his ears are functioning, so he turns his head towards him, teeth almost shining in the darkness of the room before Baptiste finally flicks on the light.

“You’re back! Finally. I was starting to feel lonely…”

He is wearing a harness by which he is tethered to the ceiling. Baptiste slowly comes closer, watching how delicious his pecs look between the leather straps of it. Gorgeous little tits that beg to be fucked.

“What’s this?” he grunts. He sees a little envelope sticking to the rope and plucks it off. Lúcio is grinning like he knows exactly what just happened even without his sight. While Baptiste opens the folded little paper he glances down and sees the goosebumps all over Lúcio’s body. Baptiste has been watching him especially whenever Talon and Overwatch clashed, and he’s taken notice of his penchant for danger, but… he’s never thought it’d go this far.

It’s pretty exciting.

His eyes flick back to the little envelope.

“‘A present’,” he reads out loud. “‘Courtesy, Overwatch.’”

“You like it?” Lúcio asks with a big grin on his face. He’s excited. Eager. Baptiste can see how attentive he is, trying to see through the blindfold.

“That how Overwatch uses their Agents? Whoring ‘em out?” Baptiste asks softly instead of answering the question. He glances around his rooms – everything seems untouched except for the man dangling off the ceiling. “Are we being watched? Ah… stupid question. Couldn’t believe you anyway, huh?”

Lùcio laughs slightly. “I’d tell you ‘no’, but… yeah, I suppose you can’t. And we don’t make a habit out of it but I kind of… volunteered.”

Baptiste throws the little slip of paper over his shoulder, heat swamping his body. He reaches out despite himself, fingertips sliding along Lúcio’s scalp between his cornrows. Lúcio visibly shudders, hypersensitive to any touch now that he’s been without sight for quite a while.

“And you expect me to believe you?” he whispers while stepping a bit closer. They’ve hung Lúcio up low; Very low. Low enough to be at a perfect height for Baptiste’s cock. “That they’d offer one of their best agents up like a gorgeous little present and not have any precautions that I won’t harm you? Or get you right to Talon?”

Lúcio’s face softens some. He smiles up at Baptiste slightly.

“We want you with us,” he says gently. “Because we don’t think you’d have it in you.”

Baptiste’s heart spasms slightly in his chest. He curls his hand around Lúcio’s neck and urges his face forward until Lúcio seems to smell the musk of his cock and dives right in without any further encouragement needed. He groans softly, rubbing his face all over Baptiste’s bulge.

Baptiste slips his fingers beneath the blindfold and slides it off before Lúcio can protest. The young man blinks rapidly in the sudden light, squinting up at him. Baptiste is sure anybody else would have cussed him out and told him to at least warn them before doing that shit, but Lúcio just smiles at him wide enough to show off his dimples.

Baptiste grasps his chin and presses his thumb against his bottom lip. Lúcio opens up immediately, sticking out his tongue just so. Baptiste slowly drags his finger against it, feeling how wet and warm and soft it is against the pad of his thumb.

“And why should I be with Overwatch?” he asks softly, thumb slowly dragging against Lúcio’s tongue, then dragging against his goatee to get it slick. Lúcio makes a soft, impatient sound.

“You really want to discuss this now?!”

His brows are pulled together as he looks up at Baptiste, impatient and a bit angry. He wants cock more than he wants to talk about business, and Baptiste can respect that. Especially when it is Lúcio who he’s been crushing on for quite a while.

“Hmmm… okay, then.”

It should be embarrassing how quickly he folds, but… fuck. He’s been staring at Lúcio’s little bubble ass move for weeks now, and he just… wants him so fucking badly.

He fumbles his pants open. As his cock flops out and against Lúcio’s face, there is a ping of uncertainty in the back of his mind. What if they’re being watched? Baptiste is no blushing virgin, but he also prefers to keep things… private if possible.

Lúcio does not seem to have any of those qualms. He is helplessly trying to come closer, and only manages to slightly rock himself back and forth. His legs have been bound in a frog tie, heels sitting just beneath his ass.

He is well and truly helpless, but Baptiste finds it difficult to believe still. Lúcio is a force to be reckoned with. His presence is… overpowering, even when he tries his very best to catch a nice fat cock in his mouth.

Baptiste helps him out. He simply has to. Lúcio looks wild enough to start biting if he doesn’t get what he wants – and what he wants is Baptiste’s cock fucking into his throat until he loses his voice, it seems.

He opens up wide and then just… takes it… and takes it… and takes it. There is not a hitch in his breathing, not a grunt of discomfort. Just Lúcio’s pretty brown eyes staring up at him as he flutters his quick little tongue around Baptiste’s cock and swallows around him like a slut.

Baptiste rocks his hips gently, nudging in deeper until he can feel the fat tip just _pop_ into Lúcio’s throat.

“Holy shit…”

Lúcio just takes it. His eyelids flutter a little, tongue pressing against the underside of Baptiste’s shaft. Drool is slowly slipping from the corners of his mouth, glistening on his chin. Baptiste can look down his muscular back and at his ass, plump and round and bisected by the tiniest thong strap.

Overwatch played _dirty_. He doesn’t think Talon would have been able to offer him anything as enticing as Lúcio hanging in his room, ready to suck him down into his wet, clenching little mouth.

He pulls back slowly, the sight of his wet shaft slipping from Lúcio’s lips something he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. When the tip finally pops out, Lúcio makes a sound like an angry cat. He wants it back. He wants his belly full and warm with cum.

Baptiste’s head swims. He cups the side of Lúcio’s face, thumb brushing against his cheekbone.

“I don’t want this to be a one-off thing,” he rasps.

Lúcio’s gaze slowly lifts from staring in greed at the heavy cock hanging right in front of him. He blinks and stares, then begins to grin, tongue sliding along his upper lip.

“Oh, it won’t be. If you come to us… I’ll have you any way I wish every night of the week.”

Baptiste flushes, hand spasming against the side of Lúcio’s face. Lúcio laughs soft and dirty.

Overwatch is… devious.


	8. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R76 – [redacted] cont; trans Jack; squirting; dom/sub varying terminology for Jack’s genitals so be cautious if anything squicks you – Gabriel found out his boy has never had consecutive orgasms. He rectifies it. 
> 
> first part is the [redacted] fic, after the --- comes the batch continuation

Gabriel slows his hard pumps down into something softer when he realizes Jack is coming. Jack always gets very quiet when he comes on dick, clutching at Gabriel’s shoulders while his hole is clenching on him in soft suckling convulsions.

“Perfect, Jackito…” Gabriel murmurs when he finally pulls out with a soft little pop. He never comes inside Jack; there is no risk, of course, but Jack doesn’t like the implication even so. There are a lot of things that former lovers have destroyed, and Gabriel has come to just accept any hiccups and not ask for the why.

“There you go… Think you can go again for me?”

Jack squawks and stares at him incredulously.

“You’re joking, right?” he rasps, voice shot to hell after he’s been so loud earlier. Gabriel hums and reaches down, gently hooking two fingers into Jack to feel how wet and hot and swollen he is. He presses his thumb against Jack’s cock, slowly rubbing the rough pad across the tip of it and make him whine and jerk his thighs closed.

“No!”

Gabriel pulls his arm back as if he burned himself, brows drawn together.

“Sorry. No go?”

Jack blinks slowly. It looks like he has to collect himself first after Gabriel gave him a nice, bone-deep orgasm.

“I uh… no… jus’ oversensitive and don’t think…” he slurs. Gabriel lies down next to him slowly, gently fucking his erection against Jack’s hip.

“You ever tried them? Consecutive orgasms?”

Jack’s ears go an alarming shade of red within just a few seconds as he thinks Gabriel’s words through. He slowly shakes his head, only sideways glancing at Gabriel who shakes his head and leans in, kissing one hot ear.

“Shit. That’s… kinda hot. Think you want to try with me, Jackito?”

Jack shrugs his shoulders, suddenly so very shy. A cute little submissive instead of the very rambunctious one that Gabriel usually has on his hand.

“We can try…” he murmurs though he does not sound too convinced that anything is going to come off it.

.o.

When they try, Gabriel has prepared everything nicely. Well… there is not too much to be done, but he checks it over a few times anyway.

Jack is a sweet boy who lies down exactly where he’s told. He looks unsure about the whole thing, especially when Gabriel gets out the ropes and begins to tie his legs back by his knees, spreading him far and not letting him go anywhere, but he does not protest the treatment either.

“Look at that… I got your favorite toy,” Gabriel murmurs, lifting the smooth metal vibe up for Jack to have a look. It is not girthy; maybe the circumference of two fingers, but Jack goes impossibly hot for the little thing. He likes the way it hums and tickles and doesn’t make him feel like his hole is going to split apart.

“Th-thank you, sir,” he whispers. His deep voice is scratchy, chest heaving. He’s already building himself up to something because he’s Jack fucking Morrison and he has a subscription to anxiety.

Gabriel is leaning in, gently kissing the corner of Jack’s mouth while letting the little vibe trail between his pecs and down the ridges of his belly.

“You’re welcome, pet. You know you can tap out whenever you feel too overwhelmed.”

“Yes, sir…” Jack murmurs, but Gabriel can see that he would not get out under his own steam. He is too proud and too stubborn for that, so Gabriel will keep an extra eye on him.

He briefly turns the vibe on when it slides across Jack’s belly button just to hear him gasp and see his body jerking once.

“You’re so damn tense,” Gabriel says amused as he first leans up and then sits properly on his knees when he realizes he can’t see well enough. Jack whines, arms moving as if to shield his cunt from being looked at.

He gets incredibly self-conscious when Gabriel gets up close and personal, but they’ve been long enough in their dynamic that Jack does not dare to actually shield himself. As it is not a hard limit, Gabriel keeps going, using one hand to spread Jack’s labia apart while the other circles the vibe around the jut of his cock, half-hard but getting more and more interested in the action by the second.

Jack takes to hiding his face behind his hands when Gabriel lets the vibe slide into him because it makes him groan deep and embarrassing. He makes a whole lot of interesting sounds and struggles weakly. Gabriel drinks all of it in greedily. Jack even makes as if to turn himself away, but in the end he allows his Dominant to built him up to his first orgasm beautifully.

Gabriel looks up when Jack suddenly throws his arms back and curls his hands around the steel bars that make up the headboard of their bed. His biceps bulge and tremble as he chokes on his howl that he tries to clamp down on, body tight and shaking and hole working like a greedy little mouth around the smooth metal of the bullet vibe.

Gabriel leans down half-way through and presses warm, suckling kisses against Jack’s cock but only seconds after he starts to ineffectually try and kick his legs, begging with a high-pitched voice for him to have mercy.

So Gabriel pulls back slowly, licking his lips and letting Jack bear down on the vibe until it slips out of him.

Jack looks… devastated, slumped back and legs spread as far as the bonds allow. His wide chest is heaving for breath, and Gabriel can see his usual lethargy starting to creep up on him, but… they are not done yet. Oh no.

“There you go… good boy… and now the other,” Gabriel murmurs, kissing Jack’s inner thigh. He knows it takes a while for his words to penetrate through the fog that Jack is cresting on right now. He is limp and delicious for just a few moments longer before he feels the touch of Gabriel’s wet, hot mouth on his cock and his whole body tenses like a clenched fist.

“No!” he cries out quickly. “No no no! Please! I can’t!”

Gabriel calmly lets him struggle. He uses both hands to keep him from accidentally trying to crush his head between his thighs, but other than that he opens his mouth wide and suckles Jack still hard cock into the wet, soft space of his greedy mouth.

They have a safeword.

Jack screams and begs like a victim in a cheesy horror movie. He sounds more like he is about to be stabbed to a bloody death instead of getting sucked off by his dominant.

His whole body is jerking and trembling and fighting against Gabriel building him up to another orgasm so soon after the first.

Gabriel has never met someone fighting tooth and nail against a climax (and their Dominant, no less), but Jack has always been a special case, and Gabriel wouldn’t want to have it any other way to be quite honest. Jack is… Jack is Jack. There simply is no other man like him out there.

“Please don’t,” Jack sobs, voice gone all soft and high; so unlike his usual deep gravelly growl.

Gabriel can tell that he’s pushed him over his sensitivity a couple minutes ago, and right into another orgasm that really is wanting to crest and crash over him. His thighs are trembling like a young colt’s around Gabriel’s broad shoulders when he pulls off of his cock with a pop and instead uses his fingers to keep jerking him slow and steady; like he has all the time in the goddamn world to make his submissive feel sublime.

“Why not?” he croons. “What are you afraid of, Jackito?”

Jack shakes his head wildly, sweat spraying from the tips of his hair. His toes are curling in the air as he seems to work through something that Gabriel can’t see. He wonders what is going on in his boy. He wonders what makes him so stubborn and volatile that he seemed at times that he would safeword out of the whole situation.

“You can take it…” Gabriel croons, leaning back and sitting on his heels as he gently fucks two fingers into his boy while the other hand is busy jerking him off. “It’ll be so good… just trust me… you will absolutely love it…”

Jack is heaving sharp breaths, his lower body shivering and tensing, making as if he is about to orgasm but then shying away from it again for some reason.

Jack is looking down his body, eyes big and pale and just staring as Gabriel works him over, until… until the tether finally snaps and he comes.

He throws his head back, tendons standing out in his neck, body flushing red all over as he comes silently, and a spray of fine fluid suddenly hits Gabriel’s forearm.

“Fuck,” he hisses, picking up his efforts, blood rushing in his ears as he makes a whole fucking mess out of everything because he hadn’t been prepared. He hadn’t _known_.

His boy is a _squirter._

\---

Fuck the sheets. Fuck the mattress. Fuck _everything_ , honestly, except his boy squirting against his fingers while he wails like he is being stabbed to death.

Jack is just making soft little ‘ah, ah, ah!’ sounds while clawing at the bedding; like it is completely beyond him to focus any amount of energy on something that is not orgasming hard and drawn-out against Gabriel’s fingers.

His instinct is to keep going; to thrum his fingers against Jack’s cock until the spray of cum goes just fucking _everywhere_ , and Jack starts to cry from how intense it all is. But, he supposes, he should be a bit more gentle the first time around.

When Jack’s orgasm _finally_ dies down, he makes it known by throwing his hands over his face and heaving a deep, exhausted sob. Gabriel slowly stops touching him, eyes on the way his cock keeps twitching wildly. Fuck… Fuck, he wants to force his way between his boy’s thighs and grunt fuck him into a begging, crying, screaming mess.

“N-No more,” Jack sobs. His tight belly is clenching, toes curling where they hang in the air. He is begging, but he has yet to fight against Gabriel’s ropes.

Gabriel slowly crawls up to lie next to him, not directly answering his begging as he puts one big hand on Jack’s belly.

“Oh, you made a big mess, Jackito,” he says in a gentle croon. Jack sobs again, but it does not sound wet. His ears are a hilarious shade of crimson. His boy is not _upset_ , per se, but he is horribly embarrassed.

His body has steamrolled him with its sudden, intense reaction, and he needs to come to grips with it.

Gabriel intends to not let him get his footing too quickly. He knows Jack – his boy’ll rather talk himself out of it than to just accept and enjoy what his body can do.

“Who would’ve known you could get so greedy for it, hm?” His fingers rub against Jack’s tight muscles, rounding his belly button and pretending like they’re not creeping down towards the dark gold curls covering his mound.

Looking down Jack’s trembling body, he realizes that his cock has yet to go down. Jack might be denying any and all enjoyment of coming so hard he started to goddamn _squirt_ , but his body is all on board for yet another round.

“D-Don’t say that,” Jack says softly. He sounds like his tongue isn’t quite obeying him yet.

“Hmn? You calling the shots now, buddy? Didn’t know you were a switch.”

Gabriel’s fingers creep lower, tickling Jack’s lower abdomen while he leans in to scratch his beard against his shoulder and distract him. Jack doesn’t answer.

“Take your hands off your face,” Gabriel orders, gentle but clear. Jack slowly complies. His eyes are almost painfully bright. They look watery and pale in comparison to how the rest of his face is flushed crimson red.

Gabriel smirks at him, fingers now gently carding through Jack’s pubes.

Jack pulls in a sharp breath, a tiny whine shivering in his throat. Gabriel can tell that it wants to become a plea to not play more, but it dies before Jack can even formulate the thought in his head, he supposes.

Jack might be wrought with anxiety, but he’s also a stubborn son of a bitch.

“Come here,” Gabriel murmurs. He grunts as he rearranges the both of them. Jack is dense with muscle and accordingly heavy, but eventually he has situated himself behind him, Jack all but sitting upright, his legs still frog tied and knees close to his chest. Open and waiting. Trembling.

He knows what will be coming, and he is whimpering with every shuddering breath.

Gabriel spreads his labia slowly, and croons into his ear: “You’re so hot down there… It’s so fucking messy, Jackito.”

He doesn’t touch Jack’s cock yet; just moves his fingers and hooks them into his hole. It is as silky as ever. It clenches, the squishy walls clamping around him, suckling him in just as much as they want to urge him back out again.

Jack groans and throws his head back against Gabriel’s shoulder.

“There you go… good boy,” Gabriel murmurs. He goes nice and slow for now; just an easy slide of his fingers through the hot mess between Jack’s thighs.

“Thank you, sir,” Jack murmurs against the hinge of Gabriel’s jaw. He is still slurring, but he sounds calmer now. Like he’s made peace with the fact that he won’t get away. That he has to do nothing but sit here and let Gabriel play with his body until he is satisfied with the outcome.

It’s difficult for Jack to let go, but when he does, it is beautiful.

Gabriel slowly speeds up. He reaches around Jack with his other hand as well and tests how soft and pliable Jack’s ass still is from earlier. The muscle is just as soft and slippery as his cunt is. He wishes he could push some cum back into him, but it is not the end of the world not to be allowed to pump his sub full with cream.

“There you go… nice and easy. Love it when you trust me, Jackito.”

He keeps up a low, soothing commentary as his fingers start a sloppy non-rhythm; fucking his front hole and ass without much rhyme or reason. Eventually he begins to slide his fingers out of the clenching, suckling little mouth and starts to round them around his cock again.

It’s never gone fully soft, and now that Jack has calmed down somewhat, he can more easily accept the touch.

He is mindlessly mouthing at Gabriel’s jaw, getting everything warm and wet with his lazy little tongue. Eventually he even starts nipping, but Gabriel lets him get away with it. Jack doesn’t do well with too many rules and regulations. He needs to be able to be a brat sometimes.

Now that it’s happened once, it is easier to get him to do it again. He’s easy and loose and lowkey is waiting for it himself.

“If we train this, you can do it a few times right after the other,” Gabriel promises him in a low croon. “I can have you tied down and make you squirt for me over and over again…” He emphasizes his point with drags of his thumb against Jack’s cock.

Jack is vibrating like a guitar string that got plucked. His body is as hot as a wound, abdomen working, thighs tensing… 

Gabriel slides down and thrusts two fingers back into his hole while the ones in his ass still. The ball of his hand grinds rudely against Jack’s cock, and just like that he’s off again.

He convulses almost violently. Gabriel is sure that if he hadn’t had his arms around him, Jack would have flung himself off the bed. The spray arcs away from his body while Jack makes a sound like a siren through his tightly gritted teeth.

Gabriel is ready this time; strumming his wet fingers against Jack’s cock hard and fast so the spray becomes wide and messy while Jack loses all control over himself and comes and comes and _comes_ until he sounds genuinely scared from lack of oxygen, eyes huge and blue; just chips of ice in his bright red face.

Gabriel takes his hands off of him, arms curling around his shoulders and rocking him back and forth, shushing him while Jack gulps in huge breaths of air and sobs them back out again, body still twitching.

There’s so much wetness between his thighs that Gabriel would not be surprised if he pissed himself in ecstasy and nervous fear.

It’s all good. It keeps the spark alive in their relationship.

“Good boy. Good _fucking_ boy. Sir loves you so much,” he assures him roughly.


	9. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McHanzo – mention of subdrop/domdrop; still no happy end yet – McCree needs time. Hanzo is desperate.
> 
> Prequel: B30F2  
> Sequel: B32F8

McCree has been avoiding Hanzo. There was no other word for it. Since their little… thing… the other day, Hanzo hadn’t seen the stupid cowboy anywhere on base, even though it wasn’t the biggest operation point.

Small enough at the least that while he hadn’t been able to _see_ him, he sure as well had been able to _smell_ him.

The smoke of his cigar was unmistakable of course. It had a habit of curling through every little nook and cranny and stay for a while even if McCree himself had fled some few minutes ago. No, what disturbed Hanzo more was the fact that he could recognize the odor of his McCree’s _body_.

He couldn’t put his finger onto it, but it was there; musky and warm; sometimes salty with sweat, sometimes not.

McCree, occupying space and leaving it as soon as he becomes aware of Hanzo approaching. However the bumbling fool managed that feat.

He isn’t answering any of Hanzo’s texts or calls. He fucked Hanzo, rolled over and left, and has been silent ever since.

It is infuriating… and concerning. Hanzo has been squirming around the issue, trying to tell himself that he wasn’t bothered by McCree’s sudden departure, but the hollowness it has left behind has hit him unexpectedly and hard.

The hours after McCree left had been some of the worst in his life. Intellectually, he had understood that he’s been dropping, but knowing something on a purely scientific level did not help to overcome it when it was actually happening.

Fretting over how McCree had been doing during the time had only sent him into more of a spiral, and it had taken hours of sitting under the warm spray of his shower, washing away clammy sweat and trembling to pull himself back together.

Honestly, McCree isn’t worth all the effort. He’s a drunk fool of a man that still needs to consciously think about personal hygiene so he wouldn’t attract any fleas – and quite frankly he was beneath Hanzo.

Obviously.

Still, Hanzo did have that _hat,_ and he couldn’t very well keep it. It didn’t belong to him, and he was no thief. And… if someone came into his rooms and saw it lying there prominently on his desk because he liked to torture himself by staring at it… even though nobody ever came to his rooms…

It just wouldn’t do.

It’s almost a week after that fateful night when Hanzo prowls the hallways of the base like an unfixed cat, McCree’s hat clutched in his hand.

He doesn’t ask Athena for his whereabouts; he refuses to this time. He has his pride. He also has the feeling that Athena is relaying Hanzo asking for McCree to the man himself.

He is walking at random, taking turns and twists, trying to find a whiff of McCree’s cologne, and simultaneously avoiding any Overwatch members along the way. He doesn’t want them to see his shame. He doesn’t want to be known as the guy that is unable to just let go.

(He doesn’t notice Hana peeking back around the corner, or Soldier shaking his head and rolling his eyes.)

Eventually the seemingly impossible happens, and Hanzo finds McCree behind the base, sitting on a tree stump and smoking one of his cigars, if the smoke lazily curling up was any indication.

Hanzo can’t see his face. He’s turned away, staring into the forest as it becomes darker and darker, night setting in fast in these parts, and swallowing everything up without a sound.

Hanzo is moving soundlessly, but McCree turns towards him even so before he can make it close enough to grab him. There’s a spasm in his chest where he wants to lunge forward and grab him by the shoulders, fearing he might just stand and run like a frightened deer, but nothing of the sort happens.

McCree sighs deeply. He’s wearing another hat, Hanzo realizes, but that one looks just… weird and out of place on him.

McCree pushes the brim up with a gloved finger and squints at Hanzo’s face in the darkness surrounding them.

“Ye’re pretty persistent,” he says eventually. Hanzo’s brows lower. He grunts and steps close enough so he can thrust McCree’s hat at his chest. McCree takes it with a surprised little sound, a cloud of smoke accompanying the sound.

“So you admit that you have been avoiding me,” Hanzo says unimpressed. He’s been expecting McCree to try and deny anything the moment Hanzo could corner him, and his easy acceptance somehow infuriates him more than a denial would have.

McCree just shrugs his shoulders. He reaches up and pulls the wrong hat off to put the right one back in place.

“Wasn’t difficult to figure that one out, was it, Sherlock?” he drawls, his answer unexpectedly vicious.

Hanzo’s frown deepens.

“I’ve been searching for you for a while,” he says, ignoring McCree’s murmured: “Been aware o’ that…” and continues: “I demand you come with me. I want to talk to you.”

He holds his breath, waiting for McCree to tell him he’s a ‘crazy bitch’, but he doesn’t. He also doesn’t get up with a grumble and a sigh to follow Hanzo’s orders like he usually would.

He lifts his hand and rubs at his eyes and the back of his nose.

“Listen, Hanzo…” he starts, then seems to think better of it and goes quiet once more. He pulls his cigar from his mouth and looks down on it as he lets it dance across his fingers. Hanzo stands next to him like a little schoolboy, just staring and waiting while he feels like a big pit is opening up beneath his feet, ready to swallow him whole.

“I need some time. An’ I think you do, too.”

“Don’t tell me what I need or don’t need,” Hanzo hisses immediately. He feels desperate, and he thinks he might sound it, too, because the look Jesse throws him is dangerously close to pity.

Jesse shakes his head and stubs his cigar against the stump he’s sitting on until he can slip it into his breast pocket and stand.

“Alright. Listen. Somethin ain’t right about this,” he’s gesturing briefly between the two of them. “An’ I need t’ figure some shit out.” He opens his mouth again like he wants to say more. An ugly little expression in his eyes that goes as fast as it had come before he closes his mouth again and reaches out, clasping Hanzo’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

“Thank ya kindly for the hat. I been missin’ it.” He starts to move past Hanzo who feels like his limbs are leaden, his head just an empty void.

“I’ll contact ya when I’m ready, buddy. Take it easy.”

He gives Hanzo one last little clap, then keeps moving until Hanzo can’t hear his footsteps anymore.

What… did just happen?


	10. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – thicc Gabriel; transman Gabriel – Jack is an awkward old fart but he is on a mission to catch Gabriel.
> 
> Prequel: B30F1

“Hmmm you can be so sweet like this,” Gabriel murmurs. He has an arm around Jack’s shoulders and is idly carding his thick fingers through the thinning white hair on top of his head.

Jack doesn’t react to it. He is heavy, lying half on Gabriel’s chest and just softly breathing. He still seems out of it from getting pounded by Gabriel earlier.

The old man isn’t used to being spread on cock like a little whore; even the SEP serum seems to have to work overtime to get his brain back online. It is quite the compliment, he supposes.

“Want to go another round?” he murmurs, hand reaching down and gently curling around Jack’s wrist. He guides it downward over his thickly muscled belly towards the harness he is still wearing. The cock attached to it is big and soft silicone that droops off to the side and is nestled in the crease of his leg.

Jack gets a bit livelier with a cock in his hand. That’s interesting. He moves a little, fingers closing around the warm, sticky silicone. Gabriel lifts his head, peering awkwardly into Jack’s face, and finds his bright eyes fixed on the sight of his own hand around Gabriel’s dick.

“What are you thinking about?” Gabriel asks softly, fingers gently scratching through Jack’s hair. He digs his heels into the bed to roll his hips up into Jack’s hand once just to see his fingers spasm around the cock. “Are you thinking about how I fucked you with that thing?”

Jack groans softly. He shifts, moving his body closer, and smearing all the tacky half-dried cum against Gabriel’s side in the process.

He is hot like a fever. A nice, solid mass next to Gabriel who lets his hand slide from his head to the back of his neck, squeezing and massaging him slowly.

“When’s the last time you had someone up your ass, Jackie?” he asks teasingly. “You were so nice and nervous… Like a sweet little virgin.”

“Oh my God… shut up,” Jack groans. His deep voice is barely intelligible; it is fucking _shot_ , and Gabriel has never heard anything better.

“You thought I’d let you mount me, did you?” he continues easily, squeezing just a bit too hard for comfort. “Thought I’d bend over and beg for your big ruddy dick, huh? Nasty old perv…”

Jack squirms slightly, his hand slowly uncurling from around Gabriel’s cock to instead lie on his belly. Gabriel can feel how tacky it has become with the smears of lube from his dick, but Jack is uncharacteristically sweet and petting him, so he lets it slide. He’ll have to take a shower either way after Jack rubbed his body all over him.

“Listen,” Jack murmurs, thumb slowly swiping against Gabriel’s skin.

Gabriel pauses at how serious Jack sounds. His hand moves, sliding from the back of his neck to between his shoulder blades where it rests big and warm and heavy, the teasing smile slowly sliding off of his face.

“I know I’m an old perv,” Jack admits. Gabriel can feel his breath tickling on his skin as he speaks, but both are now very diligently not looking at each other. Gabriel has stilled completely now, but with how Jack’s head is on his chest there is no way the old fart isn’t hearing how hard and fast his heart is beating now.

“But you’re… really hot, Gabriel. I’ve been staring at you since we met in SEP.” Gabriel wants to snort derisively and murmur ‘I know that’, but his tongue just won’t move. Jack’s hand is slowly petting him, clumsy like a man that’s never really gotten used to exchanging affections.

When should they have learned?

“And uh… I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

Finally, Gabriel exhales in one big _whoosh_ of air and pats Jack’s back.

“Easy there. Don’t strain yourself, old man.”

Jack growls and suddenly pushes himself up. His hands frame Gabriel’s head as he swings his leg over him and sits down on Gabriel’s thighs, boxing him in.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jack’s old face is strained and tense looking. It never ceases to amaze Gabriel how much Moira’s treatments have changed his own body. He makes a show out of closing his mouth and lifting his brows at Jack, waiting.

Jack hesitates. He had obviously not been expecting Gabriel’s easy compliance. He clears his throat, and murmurs after a moment of quiet thinking: “Of course you noticed that I was hot for you. I didn’t really hide it.” He looks embarrassed, eyes glancing off to the side. “I just wanted to tell you that… sometimes I had been wondering if you felt… uh… grossed out by me. My… attention.”

Now it was getting interesting. Jack looked like it physically hurt him to try and put his thoughts and feelings into words. Gabriel thinks that some of the younger agents would die laughing if they heard the old fart struggling around the concept of drooling after Gabriel’s thick body for years.

Gabriel lifts his arms, crossing them behind his head and forcing Jack to resituate his hands with which he was bracing himself. He makes a show out of flexing his muscles to let Jack see just how big and round his biceps were, then says easily: “I would’ve let you know if you grossed me out, Jack. I mean… you _are_ gross. But in a hot kinda way.”

Jack flushes dully. He squints at Gabriel like he’s not quite sure if he’s being ridiculed.

Gabriel sighs and moves his knees up in a small jerking motion to have Jack bounce on his thighs.

“What the fuck do you want, old man? You’re ruining the afterglow, you know.”

Jack leans down, putting his mouth against Gabriel’s ear.

“I want to eat you out,” he rasps, his voice making goosebumps rise along Gabriel’s arms. His mouth goes dry. “And I want your thighs around my head like you’re going to pop it like a fucking watermelon. And I want to fuck you and see your fucking body _move_ on my dick.”

The gentle fire prickling low in his guts roars to new life.

“I want you to perform for me like you did on that bench. And under the showers.” Jack is rolling his hips, pushing against Gabriel’s harness and making it drag deliciously against his meaty cunt. The sensation is sending out spirals of lust that end prickling and exciting in his fingertips.

“You want an awful lot…” he breathes.

“I want even more,” Jack murmurs, lowering himself further until he is pressed against Gabriel’s front, pressing him down into the bed. “I want exclusive rights to you…”

Gabriel inhales sharply, eyes closing as he unfolds his hands from behind his back and slowly curls his arms around Jack’s shoulder.

“You asking me to be your sweetheart, Morrison?”

A beat of silence and then a soft: “Yes.”

“Hmm… I could maybe arrange that.”


	11. Bruce/Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason (Batman universe) – loss of virginity – Bruce finishes what he’s started.
> 
> Prequel: B30F4  
> Sequel: B32F10

Bruce’s head swims. It’s not his first time with a heating Omega. It’s not even his first time with a _virginal_ heating Omega, but Jason has a tendency to make easy things hard.

His insides somehow manage to treat Bruce’s questing fingers like they’re old hands at keeping something nice and cushioned and warm, and simultaneously like they’ve never felt anything of the like.

They’re trembling and coltish, squeezing down on him in infrequent bursts that have his cock try to strangle itself in the tight confines of his cup.

Jason is making soft little whimpering sounds; little noises of utter defeat as he gets fingered by Bruce and drools onto the concrete of the rooftop.

Bruce knows Omegas that like to lick and groom a shirt or something that’s drenched in their Alpha’s scent, but he can’t offer Jason anything comforting right now. There’s nothing gentle on their persons; just weapons and armor.

When he hears the soft, unmistakable sound of licking, he can see Jason dragging his pretty pink tongue against the back of his own hand. Anything to get out the jitters from getting fingered by an Alpha deep and intrusive.

He’s putting out so much slick now, too; it’s just dripping down his taint, displaced by Bruce’s fingers rudely pushing in and knuckling his tender little rim open until it is pink and swollen. The scent is driving him wild. It feels like he has to jump out of his own skin; just claw it open to try and get closer than humanly possible to Jason.

“You’re just like them all,” Jason sobs, voice rough and breaking. “You only want t-to f-fuck.”

Bruce can’t deny this. He is so utterly ashamed of himself. He’s a… scholar. Sophisticated. He has excelled in denying himself before he has mastered anything else, but _this_. Jason presenting to him; smelling fresh and young and unused. _Alive._

He wants to apologize but doesn’t know if that would make it even worse. He slowly drags two rough fingertips along Jason’s spongy insides, then steadily pulls them out of him until his little virgin hole is gaping the slightest bit just for him.

“Go,” he grunts roughly. It feels like he’s dredged the sound up from someplace very deep. He sits back on his haunches while the command has to penetrate the fog in Jason’s mind.

“W...What?” Jason slurs.

“Go,” he reiterates urgently. “Flee. Get into your nest.”

Jason doesn’t move. They’re both breathing fast and hard, the cold wind atop the rooftop having them shivering. They seem alone up here, but one could never be too sure in Gotham.

“Idonwanto.”

The slur had been too fast and indistinct to really make out.

“What?”

“I _said_ , I don’t _fucking_ want to!” Jason snaps. His head jerks around, eyes sparking fire even though they are so wet he looks on the verge of bawling. “Y-You got me hot and bothered, so _do_ something!”

Bruce licks his lips slowly. He wants to argue but his brain is sluggish and he only finds himself able to open the front of his suit and tug his cup to the side so his cock can flop out big and angry red. Ready to breed a bitch.

He shuffles closer, one hand on Jason’s hip, the other around his dick. Just when he wants to ask him if he’s sure or ready, Jason snaps at him to get it on.

His voice is shaky and there’s a little sniffle in there as well.

Bruce closes his eyes and tries to calm himself enough to be nice and slow as he pushes his way inside. Jason’s insides are squishy and eager to spread for him. He’s dripping slick, body overproducing as it tries to figure out how to do all this.

This… breeding business.

Bruce closes his eyes and inhales deeply, trying to center himself, but only getting a thick lung full of Jason’s come hither pheromones.

“I… I’m sorry, Jason-”

“Don’t _fucking_ talk. Just _do_ it, B!”

Jason’s voice has become scratchy and brittle. Bruce decides not to torment him any longer, and instead nudges deeper inside. When he is as deep as he can go, Jason accentuates the occasion with a canine yelp. His fingers are scrabbling against the concrete of the rooftop. The wind around them is painfully cold wherever it hits naked skin, but Bruce’s cock is held feverishly warm.

There’s no resistance to overcome, no… _breach_ to mark what has happened; just Bruce gently starting to rock his hips and deflowering this gorgeous Omega. Jason. _His_ Jason.

Jason is back to licking his own hand and arm. He is cowering against the floor in his bid to present pretty; overeager like any young Omega. He’d try to topple himself over if Bruce’s hands weren’t securing him and keeping him at the right angle.

He wants to tell him not to lie on the cold concrete but he knows that it’d just fall onto deaf ears, so he reaches over his shoulders and unclips his cape to stuff it beneath Jason and give him at least some form of protection.

“Jus’... Jus’...” Jason tries to speak, probably tell him to ‘just get on with it’, but his breath hitches before he can properly get anything out.

Bruce starts to fuck him. _Really_ fuck him. He pulls back and pushes back inside in quick thrusts that result in little _pap, pap, paps_ when his naked hips hit Jason’s ass.

It’s surreal and delicious. If he’s being honest with himself, he had been dreaming of this very moment for… longer than is right.

Jason is quiet when he gets fucked on Alpha cock and isn’t trying to speak. He just breathes soft and deep. Like he is falling into a deep quiet meditation when his belly is filled up with a heavy cock for the first time.

Bruce lets one hand slide around Jason’s hips and carefully touches his cock. It’s as slippery as his hole. Small and cute. It fits right into his palm; a nice hot hand full that Bruce can squeeze as he mounts the young Omega and helps him keep the heat down until he can squirrel himself away into his nest.

Jason sobs. His thighs are as massively muscled as Bruce’s own, but they are shaking like a young colt’s. He’s unused to being speared on Alpha cock and getting his dick fondled at the same time, and it shows.

The closer he gets to an orgasm the more restless he becomes until he is bouncing on Bruce’s dick like a rabbit with its hind feet caught.

When he comes, his insides closing around Bruce’s cock like a molten fist, the tranquility that Bruce had been scrabbling for finally descends after all.

His hand gently milks Jason through it, hips stilling to give him that fill and heaviness in his guts that he needs right now, but instead of knotting him like it would be only natural, he holds himself back and waits.

He is not surprised in the least when after a few moments of dazed afterglow, Jason suddenly elbows him in the ribs and scrambles away. He is jerking his pants back up, not looking back at Bruce as he skitters to the edge of the rooftop. Only before he vanishes over the rim does he glance towards the Alpha that had been breeding him. What Bruce can see of his face is flushed bright red, his eyes still dazed and feverish.

He just knows that this won’t be the last time he’s helped Jason out. He just doesn’t know how the next time will play out.


	12. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel/Soldier76 – fart kink; gassy Gabriel – Gabriel ate cabbage and is in a predicament and Jack is a fuckboy.
> 
> Sequel: B32F11

Gabriel has had literal pearls of sweat on his forehead by the time the instructor finally let them off for the night. He’s not sure what kind of facial expression he’s wearing as he makes his way through the hallways of the base but it’s enough to deter any conversations that others might want to involve him in.

He feels like he’s waddling as if he’s shit his pants, but he’s not too sure if others can tell.

By the time he finally makes it into his rooms and the door slides closed behind him, the cramps in his abdomen have become so severe that he’s not so sure whether he isn’t really going to shit his pants when he finally can relax his sphincter.

He is covering his face with both hands, feeling the heat radiating off his skin as he listens to his fart going on for long humiliating seconds, rumbling embarrassingly loud; but he also can’t help the deep groan of satisfaction when the cramps in his abdomen finally die down.

He should never have eaten that goddamn cabbage, but the other options in the cafeteria had been even worse. He’d known he’d get gassy.

“Fuck,” he whispers when all the air is finally gone. It doesn’t smell as far as he can tell; but even as he starts to wipe the sweat off of his brow, he can feel – and hear – the gurgling in his guts starting up again.

At least now he doesn’t have to hold back and can just… relieve himself as needed.

He knows that others aren’t as shy about just passing gas in front of others, but he’s simply never been comfortable with it.

Gabriel slowly drags his sweat soaked shirt over his head, and makes his way into the bathroom. His guts keep revolting; he can feel the air being slowly pushed through his abdomen as he moves his muscles and agitates his insides. It’s not a comfortable feeling, but at least relaxing himself from the slowly mounting cramps is.

He’s just passed another long but blessedly quiet fart when he comes out of the bathroom freshly showered and a towel wrapped around his hips.

He bumps into Jack. The sudden appearance of his fellow soldier (and fuckbuddy) has his chest spasm in alarm. He almost drops down into a defense position when his brain starts to work again and he blinks a few times.

“What the fuck, Morrison? What’re you doing here?”

Jack grins at him roguishly and grabs him by the hips to pull him closer.

“What do you think?” he murmurs against the hinge of Gabriel’s jaw, gently giving it a small bite while his fingers are busy opening the knot of his towel and pulling it off of his body. “I want to fuck you.”

The protest is right on Gabriel’s tongue, but the thought of Jack asking him why the fuck not and him explaining to him that he’s gassy makes his brain sort of flatline. There could be a million other excuses of course, but Jack is already bullying him towards the bed and gently pushes him down while Gabriel becomes very, _very_ aware of yet another cramp trying to build itself up.

Fuck… this would become interesting.

.o.

His pride doesn’t let him argue getting his knees bend up to his shoulders and his hole fingered by Jack’s lube wet fingers, but the longer it goes on the more panicked he becomes.

It’s a wonder Jack hasn’t noticed the warm gust of air sliding over his fingers when he pushed two of them into Gabriel, and the fact that he’s essentially farted on Morrison’s hand has him a bit nauseous with embarrassment.

He hides his face beneath his arm, biting into the flesh of it, trying everything to remain quiet and hold on to the building pressure in his intestines.

When Jack pushes into him with a low groan, Gabriel is for a moment distracted by the white noise in his ears. His heart is racing. He feels like if his face becomes any hotter, he will just spontaneously combust.

Jack doesn’t seem to notice any of it; he has his hands on the backs of Gabriel’s knees and folds him in half like a nice little package, using the muscles they’ve garnered through the SEP training to pump his cock into Gabriel like it is nothing.

He’s grinning and prattling about something; Morrison never really has gotten out of his jock mentality, and while Gabriel usually is deathly annoyed (and secretly turned on) by it, he can’t even make himself pay attention to it.

He is probably just gloating about how damn hot his abs look when he gives it to Gabriel like this; just plows into him deep and leisurely.

“So damn fucking tight holy _shit_ , Gabe! You trying to strangle my cock? Like it so much, do you?”

It’s true; Gabriel is clenching as hard as possible, trying his best to keep all the air inside… but the longer he struggles the more painful the cramps become. Sweat starts to pearl yet again along his hairline. Tears spring into his eyes.

He realizes that there is no way he will win this struggle. There’s no way he can outlast Jack _fucking_ Morrison when he is hellbent on admiring his own dick game. He will lose the agency over his own body and he will…

He will…

He has no option. He’s sure if he tries to keep it down for just a bit longer he will have a whole ‘nother accident than _just_ farting on Jack’s cock.

He takes in a gasping wet breath, and, accompanied by the wet sound of Jack deep dicking him, he relaxes his sphincter.

The sound is loud and bubbling and unmistakable. Even Jack can’t _not_ notice it happening. He has to feel the air on his cock; has to know that there is no other explanation for the sound other than Gabriel having lost the fight against his own body and having to pass gas.

Jack pauses his movements and stares at Gabriel. He can’t see it but he can _feel_ it.

He bites his lip, clenching his arms tight beneath the arm thrown over his face and tries not to start bawling – though he’s not sure anything could make this situation even worse than it is.

“Did you just-”

“Fuck, Morrison! You just… you caught me off guard, alright? I wasn’t prepared to… fuck.”

His voice breaks and hitches. He’s clearly close to crying, and Jack starts to pull back slowly. Gabriel thinks he’ll leave, disgusted by what happened… maybe go and start talking shit to the others about it…

But then he suddenly fucks back in and startles another fart out of him.

Gabriel feels like he is going to hyperventilate but he can’t form any _thoughts_. He is reeling and Jack is continuing to _fuck_ him, and-

“Shit that’s… that’s fucking hot. Holy shit. Are you crying?? That’s so… shit, Gabe. C’mon. You close, buddy? I’m going to fucking _lose_ it.”

He picks up his pace; there’s none of his self-indulgent slowness anymore. This time he fucks like his life depends on it, and makes Gabriel bear more and more of his weight.

Gabriel’s thighs are pressing against his abdomen. He can’t help himself. There’s no way he could hold back now.

Jack’s thrusts are accentuated by the wet squelch of lube and embarrassing bubble of air from Gabriel’s ass.

He is sobbing softly but damn he’s so hard; Jack is rubbing against his prostate until it aches, his whole body _singing_ with the sensation-

and then it finally happens, and the high of orgasm makes him forget his shame for blessed minutes while Morrison loses his mind over having Gabriel fart on his dick.

What a life...


	13. Builder/Gust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gust/Builder – ace nb Builder; no sex; TLC; hurt/comfort – Gust is exhausted and so is Builder.
> 
> Prequel: B30F5  
> Sequel: B32F1

Gust’s feet ache and he wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and just sleep the past couple days away, but Builder had let him know via a little note stuck under QQ’s collar, that they would be coming over tonight.

So, instead of just conking out, Gust finds himself under the shower for a considerable amount of time, quietly dying of shame as he tries to see with a hand mirror whether he’s caught all those little hairs from his ass crack or not.

He’s reasonably sure Builder doesn’t care one way or the other whether he is hairy or where those hairs are situated, but Gust had a certain _aesthetic_ of himself that he was loathe to give up.

Truth be told, after the long bridge project, Gust is just too exhausted to really want to play tonight. He’s even considering to not go to the grand opening ceremony tomorrow. He just wants to _sleep_. He should simply let Builder know, but he hasn’t seen them in just as long as that stupid bridge has been build, and it’s too late to cancel now anyhow.

He can hear the doorbell when he gets out of the shower and hectically tries to dry his hair while Russo opens the door and leads the builder to Gust’s rooms.

“Hey there,” he can hear Builder’s voice from the other room. It gives him pause. They sound… absolutely exhausted.

“I’ll be out in a second!” he replies, trying to decide what to wear. He wants in his soft pyjamas but they’re not exactly what one would consider sexy.

His eyelids grow heavy just trying to figure out what to do.

There’s a tiny knock at the door alerting him to Builder opening it a split second before they do just that without waiting for Gust’s answer.

Gust sees them in the reflection of the mirror and his chest tightens both with affection and a sudden kind of worry that he usually only feels for Ginger.

He whirls around and stares at them with their slumped posture and gaunt face.

“You look horrible!” It just bursts out of him before he can help it, but Builder just smiles in a tired and lopsided kind of way.

“Gee. Thanks.”

“What-” Gust stops himself short when his tired brain finally catches up. The bridge. _Builder_ had been the one to supply the parts for it. They must have slaved away on the whole structure for the past days while Gust had been busy to maneuver everything into position.

“Ah,” he mutters softly. They stand there for a second just blankly staring at each other before Builder glances down at him.

“Get dressed. Russo’s preparing us leftovers from dinner. I’m starving.”

Gust obeys just on autopilot, grabbing his soft and unsexy pyjamas and pulling them on. By the time he steps out to where Builder is, his table has already been set by Russo and Builder is scarfing down the cold cuts.

Gust drags himself closer and sits next to them instead of across. He just wants to be close and he’s too tired to heed etiquette. Builder, as per usual, doesn’t care about it either and seems to be very content to just lean their shoulder against his and almost fall asleep chewing.

Gust feels a little stupid for his earlier worries. He’s been so busy with his own exhaustion and busy life that he hadn’t stopped to consider what Builder was up to. He leans his cheek against their hair. They smell like grease and sweat and dust. They must have just programmed the rest of their machines and dragged themselves into the city.

“Hey,” he says gently when Builder hasn’t grabbed for any more meat in a few minutes. Builder startles awake with a little snort that makes Gust smile after all. He nudges them off his shoulder. “Come on, you should wash yourself a bit. I’ll help.”

Builder doesn’t even protest. They wait for Gust to stand and extend his hand to them, then let themselves get pulled up onto their aching feet.

Gust is thinking of ‘the blind leading the blind’ as the two of them make their way slowly in a snail’s pace towards the bathroom, hobbling the whole time like they were on hot coals.

He pulls the clothes off of Builder’s body and sits them down on a low stool. Their head keeps tilting forward or backward before they startle awake again. Gust tries to be fast yet gentle as he cleans them, though he can’t help but scrunch his nose in disgust with just how dirty the sponge is every time he rinses it in the basin.

“‘S the bridge finally done?”

Builder suddenly speaking startles him badly. They are slurring their words but when he looks up from washing between their toes, their eyes are open and staring at him.

“Yes,” he replies after a moment. “It’s finished. Tomorrow is the ceremony.”

Builder grunts softly in acknowledgement. Gust isn’t sure whether they will even be there; they tend to forget all about those things in favor of plunging themselves right into the next project – though he’s suitably sure this time they will miss it because they’ll still be sleeping the whole nightmare off.

He pulls them onto their feet without comment and grabs one of his pyjamas. Builder is a little shorter than he but that is no problem. They make a soft sound of wonder while he buttons the top for them, lifting their arms and staring at the fabric like they’ve never put on sleep wear before.

It’s kind of cute – but also disturbing.

It reminds him that he still knows so little about them, really.

They hold hands as he leads them to his bed; it’s not really big but Builder snuggles right up to him, pressing against his side and tucking their face into the crook of his neck.

They mumble something, and goosebumps break out over his skin when their breath tickles his neck.

“E-Excuse me?” he whispers.

They don’t answer for a minute, making him think they fell asleep, but then suddenly they make an effort to twist their head out of his neck and slur right against his ear: “Your hair smells great.”

Warmth floods him. He can feel himself blush, the fuzzies from his belly crawling along his limbs and settling in the tips of his fingers and his toes.

It’s not arousal but simple… happiness. He curls his arm tighter around their shoulders and starts to work the blanket up. By the time he has them both tucked in, Builder is snoring not-so-quietly right into his ear.

It doesn’t keep him from conking out, though. The past days had been hard, and now they’re here in his bed, bellies full and bodies warm and nothing could keep him from just zoning out.

He usually moves a lot in his sleep but when he wakes late in the morning for a minute he realizes they are still in the same position, squished up to one another, his arm still beneath their head. He can’t feel it anymore but sleep takes him away again before he can do anything about it.

Only late at night when they are having dinner again do they both realize they have missed the ceremony completely.


End file.
